Sunlight and Ruins
by robinwitch1
Summary: Shahvee and the Dragonborn on honeymoon, wandering south of Riften to the site of one of the Dragonborn's more quixotic projects, to lay some ghosts from the First Age, as well as more traditional honeymoon activities. Set just after the completion of the main quest and both major DLC, in the same universe as "I take you with me."


**Sunlight and Ruins**

It had been a perfect wedding, everyone there and everyone happy, but together and alone was even better, Vivian thought. A cloudless late-summer day, sunny but not too hot, and she and her lady Argonian lifemate, Shahvee, were riding slowly southward from Riften on a "wandermoon," as Brynhold had jokingly dubbed it. They let their horses choose their own path for the most part, two ordinary mounts hired from Riften Stables, Vivian's a dark chestnut brown and Shavee's a silver-gray. They had agreed that Shadowmere, let alone Arvak, would strike the wrong note on a trip like this.

The horses drifted along at a walk, side by side, as the afternoon shadows slowly lengthened between the trees. After a long silence, Shahvee spoke, carefully, as if she were feeling her way through a darkened room full of things that were precious and easily broken.

"Perhaps that's why you were chosen, the questioning, the doubt. Perhaps they wanted someone who would always be uneasy, never take the powers for granted. Someone who wouldn't confuse power with virtue."

Around them, there was only the sound of horses' hoofs and the wind in the trees. Neither of them expected any trouble. No creature would be fool enough to start anything on a day like this, and if one did, the loose but constant screen of two or three were-beasts shadowing them at a respectful distance would take care of the matter efficiently.

"The anti-Miraak," Vivian finally responded, after a long, pensive silence of her own. "A nice Breton girl like yours truly, someone who would turn on herself rather than turning on them. To ensure that it didn't end the same way it had with him. Uncomfortable for the chosen one, of course. But that's never been one of their concerns, the comfort of those who serve them. The honor is supposed to be enough, more than enough."

"Convenient for them. Not so much for you," Shahvee remarked. "You pay the price, they receive the benefits. I'm not that surprised that Miraak tried to take it all for himself, though from what you've told me, he was a fool to think that he could. He must have felt that he deserved it, so much effort, so long, and still to be nothing else but the thrall of others."

"I don't feel I deserve it, but I don't really feel I deserve anything," Vivian replied. "I don't deserve you, but thank all the powers above and below, I have you. That will keep me going. There's so much to do. Everyone thinks that it's over now, but there's still so much to do."

She looked left and right at the forest around them, with a blank expression, as if she had forgotten where she was, slumping a bit in the saddle, visibly tired. Shahvee knew the signs all too well by now. Vivian was thinking back again, remembering, but always the bad things, the failures, what others might question even though they didn't know about it and wouldn't hold her responsible even if they did know. Perhaps it would be better to stop for the night, even though it was only late afternoon. If they did something positive, talked of their memories of the wedding, or their future plans, Shahvee knew that she could bring her love home again, interrupt if not banish the endless cycle of self-doubt and self-reproach.

When she suggested halting and making camp, Vivian immediately agreed, to Shahvee's surprise.

"We're nearly at the ruined farmhouse now, love," Vivian said. "Holdfeld's old place. I was thinking of stopping there anyway. I need to take another look around." She smiled at Shahvee, still tired, but the darkness had left her face. "I didn't tell you before, but I own that wreck and the plot of land it stands on. Don't worry, I wasn't thinking of repairing it. Something else. I'll explain when we arrive."

-o-o-o-

The Holdfeld house was well on its way to becoming one with the bush again. Another five years, at the most, and it would be difficult to see that there was ever a residence there. The floorboards would never bear the touch of feet again and what remained of the walls and chimney was enveloped in vines. The previous owner had blown himself and the house to bits with a magical experiment gone awry, and no one had gone near the house since. Vivian and Shahvee circled slowly around the wreck, hand in hand, stumbling occasionally on roots and half-buried chunks of masonry hidden by the long grass. As they walked, Vivian explained why she had bought the land and what she planned to do with it.

"You remember I've talked to you several times about a dream I was having, one where someone who looks a bit like me wanted me to do something?"

Shahvee nodded, hoping against hope that this episode would not be grim enough to put Vivian into another one of her depressions.

"Two weeks before our wedding," Vivian continued, "when you were out of town for a day or two, I finally learned what the dream was about. I told you about Forelhost, didn't I? The bodies of the children, half-buried in a ruined alchemical garden next to an alchemy lab with a skeleton sitting in one of the chairs? It was one of my worst memories once, until newer horrors pushed it aside. But it still came back to me from time to time."

Shahvee glanced sideways at Vivian, and was relieved to see that she had not fallen off into one of her deep depressions. At least not yet.

"Yes, you did tell me, love. I've not brought it up myself because you already have enough to think about, but I remember you talking about it. You said they had been poisoned by the defenders as part of the mass suicide there, and the skeleton in the alchemy lab was that of one of the alchemists who had objected to the poisoning. You had found some notes or something, I think you said." Shahvee paused a moment and looked around, "Aren't we fairly close to Forelhost now? I seem to recall that it's around here somewhere."

"It's up the mountain over there," Vivian replied, and pointed. "Quite close. Anyway, while you were away, I finally had that dream and remembered it clearly enough to do something about it. The woman in the chair, the one who was shot by her own side... she was the Head Alchemist. Her name was Froda. She looks... looked a lot like me. Her hair was the same color, and her skin was as light as mine, but she wasn't quite as slender as I am, and her eyes were brown, not blue. And of course she didn't have all my scars. But still, if I had had a sister, she might have looked like Froda. She spoke to me, very shy and quiet, and asked me if I could do something for her."

"Not anything that would put you at risk, I hope," Shahvee said.

"No... Froda wouldn't have asked for anything like that. She was a very quiet person, almost timid. All she wanted me to do was to get the bodies of the children out of that horrible cavern and bury them under the sunlight. They had been waiting for so long, she said, and they could never rest in the place they had been killed, underground with no light or fresh air. I promised her I would do it when I could, and she smiled and thanked me, and went away. She didn't ask for anything for herself, but I'm going to bring her remains out too. She's spent so long with the dead children unhappy in the dark. She deserves to be with them when they reach the light, here."

"Such a long time ago... the battle for Forelhost was in the First Era, wasn't it?"

"What that means is that Froda must have loved the children very much, her love must have been very strong, very deep, to be able to wait all this time until they could finally be brought out and buried properly," Vivian said. "It couldn't be done before. The dragon priest who had her and the children killed, Rahgot, was still there, undead. No one could have gotten in. But I killed Rahgot once and for all, I turned him into a pile of smelly ash and took his stupid mask. It wasn't even a good enchantment; I could have done better in my sleep. He sold himself cheap. Bastard. Child-killing murdering _bastard_, I hope the gods shove you down to the bottom of Peyrite's ashpits and _never_ let you out. I hope you spend the rest of eternity _choking_."

Vivian's outburst startled Shahvee, but it also gave her hope. _Her anger will keep the depression away_, she thought. _I don't want her to hurt herself over this, the way she always does. Please, all the gods, send her anger and then peace. She cries enough. I don't want her to have to cry on our honeymoon._

Vivian took several deep breaths, and began again, in a normal tone, to Shahvee's relief.

"I knew about this place, so I bought it. It wasn't much. Holdfeld's family was surprised that anyone would want it. It's close to the road but not on it, sheltered, and already cleared of large trees and boulders. A good place for a memorial," Vivian said. "I'll have a crew down from Riften in a month or so to begin the work, remove what's left of the house and clear the ground. Then I can get the bodies out and re-bury them here, in the sunlight." She sat down on what was left of a low, broken wall, but then Shahvee noticed a shadow pass over her face again as she began to talk in a lifeless tone.

"I wonder if any of those children ever played here? It's not so far away. I hope they did. I hope they weren't shut up in those dark caverns all their lives, and then just died there in the dark. I don't know..."

She glanced up at Shahvee, who was still standing in front of her, and shook her head in a daze, filling her mind with horrors whose true details had been lost to time. Shahvee knelt and took her in her arms and held her until she slowly came back to herself. "You're doing something about it and it wasn't even any of your business," Shahvee softly pointed out. "There's nothing more we can do now. It was so long ago, in the First Era. I'm proud of you. No one else would have bothered."

"I think perhaps others would have bothered," Vivian responded, "if Froda had appeared to them in their dreams, the way she appeared to me."

"I doubt it, love. Really. Froda wouldn't have appeared to them. That sort of message only comes to those whose hearts are open to it. To those who can care enough to care about righting a thousand-year-old wrong, no matter how futile any action seems to be now." She lifted Vivian to her feet and took both of her hands. "Let's sit under the trees. It looks more comfortable there, no odd lumps of stone to hurt our feet on."

The two walked over, hand in hand, and sat down among the trees; and for a long while they sat in silence, Vivian leaning back into Shahvee's arms, listening to each other breathe and the wind in the branches. Then Shahvee spoke again, softly and slowly.

"Every day I fall in love with you again. Because of something like this, every single day."

In a sleepy voice, finally relaxed, Vivian replied, "You don't know how much that means to me. No, that's wrong. You do know. What I don't know is why I deserve it."

"Every day something," Shahvee continued. "You deserve it. I've always tried to look on the bright side of things, but I never dared dream I would be lucky enough to be part of something like this."

She paused as a stray gust of wind rattled the branches above them, and then continued.

"Early this spring, when I visited Lakewood Manor for the first time...you remember, don't you? That stupid giant. I wish they would learn not to tear things up for no good reason."

"Yes," Vivian replied. "I tried to warn him off, but for some reason he was in such a foul mood that I ended up having to kill him. He just kept coming at me and breaking things. Stupid, stubborn, pathetic creature. I remember how bad I felt about it afterward, even though there was nothing else I could have done. He'd probably have hurt someone in Oakwood if I'd just ignored him."

"I love you for that too," Shahvee said. "That you don't like to shed blood, even when you must."

Vivian wriggled a bit, uneasy at the praise.

"You haven't seen me on a battlefield, love. And gods forbid you ever do. They tell me I look like the Queen of Death."

"The Queen of Death doesn't mourn those she kills as if they were her own children," Shahvee said, firmly. "I'm the only one who understands who you really are. And Serana, of course, thank the gods for lending her to you when you needed her most. None other. They see your excitement and mistake it for joy. Serana and I know what it really is, you forcing yourself to do what has to be done. And we know the price you pay for it afterward."

"I hope you're right," Vivian murmured. "Anyway, what about that giant?

"Well, your faithful steward Brelyna wasn't home when we got back that afternoon and the giant arrived, you remember. She was on the other side of the lake at the market. And when she came home that night, she sat down on the front steps and cried her eyes out at what the giant had done. It had torn up her whole garden in the fight. You'd been away from Lakewood Manor living in Whiterun and Raven Rock for nearly a year, and I'd never been there at all, of course. Brelyna had wanted to surprise us with all sorts of things that her people had sent her from Morrowind, herbs and flowers and spices. Later, I talked to some of the people from Oakwood who had been to the house while you were away, to make deliveries, and they said they couldn't believe what she had done, the colors, the scents. It was small, they told me, but so lovely. She worked on it every day for months. Magic as well, a tremendous challenge of course to protect all those delicate plants from Skyrim's weather. And before she could even show it to us properly, the giant crashed in and smashed it all up. Its body was lying right in the middle of where the garden had been, blood and... stuff... all over the place..."

"I was trying to kill it quickly," Vivian interjected softly. "Just to get it over with."

"I know love, I'm not blaming you, and neither is Brelyna. Well, it was late and we were already asleep when Brelyna came back, but I suppose you were woken by her sobbing and got up. I woke a bit later, I think, and went looking for you..."

"I didn't know I'd disturbed you. I'm sorry."

"Oh, _shush_," Shahvee responded in a firm voice. "Anyway, I was standing up on the second floor looking down into the hall when you brought Brelyna inside, stumbling and crying like a lost child. I watched you from up there...I didn't want to interrupt... I saw how you sat down with her on a bench and let her cry herself out while you held her hand and put your arm around her and told her how much you and I cared for her... I'm glad, love, that you thought to speak for me as well... you told her about Lady Valencia's garden in Castle Volkihar, how desolate it had been when you first saw it, and how beautiful it was becoming now, that some things couldn't be undone but gardens, at least, _could_ be made right again, and that you would help her repair the damage the giant had done... and then when she finally nodded off to sleep you picked her up and carried her up to her own bed and tucked her in... and she woke, and started to cry again, so you sat beside her bed and sang children's songs to her until she finally stopped crying and went back to sleep."

Shahvee fell silent for a moment.

"I was back in our bed then, listening to you sing. I fell asleep to your voice, I think, and the last thing that I remember thinking was that I had never, ever thought I would be with someone so full of love as you are... and the next morning, when you cried yourself over the dead giant and the ruined garden, I held you and realized how incredibly lucky I have been."

After another pause, Shahvee continued in a still softer voice.

"What an honor it was... what an honor it is... to stand by you and help you bear all your burdens. To be your chosen one, part of what you are. And that's what I mean by saying I fall in love with you again every single day. Things like that, bone tired from a long trip but still leaving your own bed to spend hours singing a servant out from the depths of her misery. Or buying land and building a tomb for people you never knew, a thousand years ago, because a ghost asked you in a dream. Always something that speaks of the heart in you. Never a day without. Never."

Vivian said nothing in reply, but snuggled herself a little closer to Shahvee, her eyes closed and a half-smile on her face. They remained like that for a long time, as the light failed and the stars began to appear in the sky. Shahvee wondered if she should set up their tent, but it seemed a shame to wake Vivian, who by this time had fallen asleep in her arms. _She has so little peace_, Shahvee thought. _Every moment of it that I can help give her is precious._

Finally, Vivian stirred and sat up.

"I'm sorry, love. I've used you as a chair again. It's not very considerate."

Shahvee shook her head.

"It's no inconvenience to me. You have to remember that with my tail to balance me, I can sit upright for just about forever. Humans don't have that support to their backs. Still, I suppose we should get the tent out to keep off the early morning dew, before we both fall asleep in the open air."

It took only a few moments to unpack their tent, which was barely large enough for the two of them, and settle the horses down for the night. They made camp at the edge of the trees, well away from the ruin of the house. Vivian built a small campfire to heat some food – when they were together, she usually insisted on cooking, to balance all the other ways Shahvee fussed over her – while Shahvee watched her movements with half-closed eyes. She seemed to be thinking about something.

As they ate, Shahvee returned to the topic they had been discussing earlier, on the road.

"The anti-Miraak. I thought about that when you were sleeping. It's correct, but then there's another question. What exactly was Miraak's failing?"

"He double-crossed his superiors twice, the dragons, and then Hermaeus Mora. The first time he was lucky. He survived. The second time, not so lucky." Vivian speared a potato with a fork and held it up as if re-enacting the impalement of the unfortunate Miraak. "He thought he could get away with anything. Even with betraying Hermaeus Mora in his own realm."

"Again, why? Betrayal is evil, everyone would say that."

"Miraak wouldn't have. Not in his circumstances, he would have said. He talked as if he had a right. That everything he did was justified, that he was always right and everyone else was always wrong. Arrogant. That blinded him."

"In other words..." Shahvee was speaking very softly but precisely, as if she were working out a mathematical theorem. "...in other words, he was doing something wrong, but he had made himself believe that it was not wrong, that it was right. That was what his arrogance consisted of, what got into the way of him seeing what he was doing. He was lying to himself out of self-interest. But the lies separated him from reality, and from realizing how things would end."

Shahvee paused a moment, and when Vivian made no comment, continued.

"Let's take another example, General Tullius. As a military leader, he often has to order his men to do things that will result in some of them being killed, perhaps many of them, perhaps all of them. How does he feel about that? Does he think battles are exciting, or glorious?"

Vivian thought for a moment, and then answered. "Of course not, love. You can't succeed as a general, not in the long run, if you don't see things from the viewpoint of your men as well as from your own. He gave the orders because he had to, to reach the army's objectives, but he never thought a battle was a good thing, because it meant that people would die. Even if it was only Stormcloaks... I remember in a couple of engagements, we didn't have a single fatal casualty, but that didn't make him much happier. In a sense, he did evil to produce a good result, but you could see it weighed on him. It does on most military leaders. Most of them will tell you that only a fool looks forward to a fight."

Shahvee did not respond at once, and for a time, they ate in silence, listening to the crackle of the fire and the sounds of the world going slowly to sleep all around. Insects chirped softly, and a wolf began to howl on the dark mountain slope above, far enough away to make it no threat even if they hadn't had friends keeping watch. The call was picked up by another, further away, and then another, until the sound faded off step by step, wolf by wolf, into the darkness far to the south. Something heavy and large moved in the forest, too far away to be sure of; probably an elk, Shahvee thought. They'd seen quite a few of them, more than usual, and closer too. Perhaps the elk were taking advantage of their cordon, staying in the ever-shifting bubble temporarily forbidden to predators, sensing they were protected for the time being.

When the wolves finally fell silent, Shahvee began again, dry and precise, her merchant's voice, Vivian always called it. Shahvee sometimes fretted that she sounded too impersonal in this mode, but its effect on Vivian was the opposite: it reassured her, made her feel that all of her partner's decisions were thought through and solidly grounded.

"The objective was good, but the means necessary to obtain that objective were not good. In other words, the general did evil that good might come, and he remained aware that the good objective did not make the evil means good. Necessary, but not good."

Vivian frowned slightly. "I'm not entirely sure what you're working toward, love."

"Towards _you_, of course," Shahvee responded. She set the dishes aside and drew Vivian into her arms again. "Towards the anti-Miraak. You have done evil that good may come, but you have never called the evil good. You keep the two clear in your mind. Of course it's uncomfortable. Of course, it means you will always be blaming yourself for something. There's no great prize that can be won with _absolutely_ clean hands. But by keeping evil and good distinct, you make it more likely that your ends aren't corrupted by your means, no matter what you have to do."

"So the key isn't self-doubt," Vivian said slowly. "More like self-consciousness, maybe. Or maybe that isn't it, not yet." She looked up, toward the ruin of the house, and saw the green eyes of a fox examining them from the shadows. It trotted into the circle of light from the campfire, paused briefly to look them both over, and continued on into the darkness again.

"How did it know you don't hunt foxes?" Shahvee asked. She had seen the eerie peace between Vivian and the wild things that she never hunted before, not just foxes, but deer and elk as well, and smaller creatures such as rabbits. "Do they pass the word along about you when no one else is looking?"

Vivian smiled. "No, but perhaps Kynareth does. Or they simply sense it. I don't know. I'm just glad of it. I wish peace were so easy to find with all things. You run across little patches of it in the most unlikely places. I remember Melka the hagraven, for example. I'm not sure you could call her friendly – I mean, her idea of an affectionate greeting was to call me "kind meat" – but we worked together well enough and she kept her word to me at the end. Even frostbite spiders – the Brotherhood had a tame one in their old sanctuary, Lys, that was killed when the sanctuary burned. The Falmer have tamed chaurus. And of course the Dawnguard have their trolls."

"You couldn't take it too far," Shahvee gently objected. "They're still going to eat each other. They have to. I can't imagine a vegetarian frostbite spider. And the Falmer taming chaurus doesn't make much difference when we haven't tamed the Falmer yet."

"I know. Another challenge, I haven't forgotten. But we'll never know how far we can take it if we don't try. I want a peace with the dragons some day; I'm tired of killing them. Such a damned waste... Paarthurnax will help, but only a few are going to respond to his Way of the Voice. We have to find something less...ethereal, I think."

"Speaking of less ethereal matters..." Shahvee put away the last of the pots and plates she had been cleaning, "...it's past time for bed, don't you think? Enough philosophy. We have to live balanced lives. And besides, that book's title is _The Lusty Argonian Maid_ for a good reason. Not 'Orc maid' or 'Dunmer maid.' Ar-_go_-ni-_an_. As in _me_."

"I can take a hint," Vivian replied, smiling dreamily as she began to undress Shahvee. "They say the Dunmer are pretty hot, though."

"Yes, and they also say that they burst into flames when they get excited," Shahvee replied as she quickly folded Vivian's discarded skirt and set it aside. "That's taking passion _far_ too literally. Now, no more talk. Don't you have better things to do with those lips?"

-o-o-o-

Shahvee was up with the dawn the next day, leaving Vivian still sound asleep in their tent. Without bothering to dress, she did the laundry in an old basin picked up from the ruin of the house, draped the wet clothes over some bushes to dry, and saw to the horses. Then, humming tunelessly, she warmed some fresh water, found a clean rag, and woke Vivian by washing her from head to toe, not without the occasional tickle or touch to points of interest. Vivian stretched, yawned, and groaned loudly with pleasure.

"By all the Divines, that beats _anything_ I saw in Sovngarde," she exclaimed, as Shahvee rolled her over to do her back. "I wonder if Sanguine has at least one of his thousands of planes of Oblivion devoted to erotic bathing? I'll have to suggest it to him if we meet again some day. Boozing and whoring are _so_ Third Era. And I certainly wouldn't mind spending eternity with you in a hot tub. We could live together forever as the patron saints of the ladies-only bathhouse, free hot water and steamy stimulation to order for all of our gender."

When Shahvee failed to respond, Vivian rolled over again and sat up, so that they were face to face.

"Is there anything wrong, love? You've gone all quiet."

In reply, Shahvee said nothing. Instead, she slowly reached out with her right hand and ran her fingers along a ragged scar that went in a broken line from Vivian's left breast all the way to her pubic mound. It was one of the longest of a pattern that covered her body and limbs like a net, most of them old and faded, but one or two still fresh and an angry red against her ghost-pale skin.

"I could so easily have lost you," she said, her voice soft and unsteady. "Before I'd even met you."

Vivian took Shahvee's hand in her own, lightly guiding it to rest just above her heart.

"But you didn't. I got that scar from my very first dragon, before I knew to stay well clear of the claws on the wings. I had really crap armor in those days, too. The cut wasn't as deep as it looks. Just a flesh wound, a big scratch, really. I ran all the way to Dragonsreach after the battle, to report to the Jarl, and all of us were so excited by our first dead dragon and the whole _dovahkin_ kerfluffle that I didn't pay much attention to the wound until one of the Jarl's domestics complained that I was dripping blood all over the floor she'd just cleaned."

She turned and fished a blanket out of the tangled bedding, wrapping it around Shahvee to serve as a windbreaker, and then snuggled down in Shahvee's arms again, her head resting lightly between Shahvee's breasts. Then she began to speak in a mock-reproachful tone, changing the topic.

"You fell asleep _very_ quickly last night, you know. Party pooper."

Shahvee chuckled, and Vivian moved a little closer to her, delighted that her diversion had succeeded and Shahvee was no longer worrying about her.

"I was completely worn out. You shouldn't have to ask why. You had _quite_ a bit to do with it, if I remember correctly." She paused and added, "But I was happy."

"It's funny," Vivian continued. "You always drift off into sleep after you come your brains out, but in the same situation, I wake right up. At least for a little while. It's when I think the clearest. In fact, I attribute the relative lack of academic achievement in my early years in High Rock to the unfortunate fact that I was first too young and then too shy to get laid. To make matters worse, I wasn't yet fully aware that I'm a girl's girl, more or less exclusively. Trying but failing to drool over the miller's studly son, wondering why it was the alchemist's delectable daughter who set all my potions and notions a-mixing. Gruesome time. I'll say no more about it."

Shahvee went on laughing. "As you wish, my dear. Reveal or conceal."

"As a general rule I prefer _reveal_, as in revealing dress," Vivian said, and turned to the side for a moment, long enough to tilt her head up and run her tongue over Shahvee's right nipple. She grinned impishly as Shahvee's laughter was interrupted by a gasp and a long shudder, and then went on.

"Some things just aren't worth the time and effort to relate, and my early love life is one of them. Anyway, I went back to thinking about Miraaks and anti-Miraaks and this Dragonborn thing that was wished on me."

"And...?"

"And I recalled a line or two from a book I read once, long ago. I'm usually crap at remembering quotations but this one has stayed with me for some reason." Vivian closed her eyes to concentrate better, thought a moment, and then slowly recited, "_This is why we should not do evil that good may come, for at any rate this great evil has come, that we have done evil and are made wicked thereby._"

When she got to the end, Vivian opened her eyes and exhaled slowly. "Don't, by all the gods, ask me where it comes from," she added. "I don't remember. It's a miracle I can even get it out after so many years."

Shahvee thought for a moment. "I've heard something like that before," she said, hesitantly. "You told me about it. When Arngeir was denouncing the Blades, before Paarthurnax butted into the conversation and shut him up. Wasn't it then?"

"A little before that, I think. And really, the quotation is right, and Arngeir is right, though he isn't at all practical. I'm playing a dangerous game. Especially with the Shouts. To learn a Shout, you must hear it inside you, absorb it. But many of the Shouts that I have to use are themselves evil. They reach out to humiliate and destroy. Soul Tear, for instance, one of the worst, and one of the most useful, that turns its victim into an undead zombie. Dragonrend, of course, a pure expression of hatred, however justified. Storm Call, that kills without discrimination all around you, friends and enemies alike. Learning them is to do evil that good may come, and to become wicked – a bit more wicked – every time you use them."

"But you had no choice. Otherwise Alduin and Miraak and Harkon would have won. You had to face that evil so that good might come, and accept all the consequences. It was out of your hands."

"So that's what it means to be Dragonborn," Vivian said. "To wear away your soul, bit by bit, like a gambler playing against odds, hoping that it will buy you the time that you need to win, and that there will be enough soul left at the end to keep you from becoming a monster. I guess Miraak went bankrupt pretty early in the game. I've had better luck."

Shahvee shook her head. "No. Not luck."

"Then what, skill? I'm just _guessing_, even now. There are no classes in being Dragonborn, no instruction books, and those who say they want to be your mentors don't agree on _anything_ except that everyone _else_ is trying to cheat you."

"Not skill, either."

"Then _what_?" Vivian's voice had begun to waver. Suddenly, it had all become too much for her. Her shoulders slumped forward, and she sniffled a little, as if she were about to start crying.

Shahvee didn't answer at once. Instead, she turned Vivian around and hugged her tight for a long moment. Then she moved back, so that they could look each other in the eyes, and replied.

"Love."

"Sentimentalist! That's too simple to be the answer!"

"No. Think about it. Who did Miraak love? And who loved Miraak? And Harkon, and Alduin? There had been those who had loved and cared for them once. Harkon had his wife and his daughter. You told me that right to the end, the one thing that Serana wanted most in all the world was for the prophecy to just go away, for her and her mother and father to be a family again and love each other. Alduin had his younger brother Paarthurnax, who mourned him after his defeat instead of celebrating. I don't know Miraak's story, but there must have been someone for him, too, somewhere. But they couldn't accept love. They all tried to stand alone. They pushed away the hands that reached out to support them. They saw ties to others, mutual obligation, fairness, give and take, as weakness. They wanted everything for themselves alone. But no one can have it all. No one stands alone. Alone, you only fall. Go spiritually bankrupt. Lose your soul. And lose everything, in the end."

"Just that?" Vivian asked in a hoarse whisper. "Is that really all there is to it?"

"There is _nothing_ else. I just realized that now, listening to you. By love, I don't mean _exactly_ what's between us two in every case, the same in every detail. It's that, but in a thousand different forms. Love... care... concern... grace... trust. An open heart. A sense of honor. The fox that walked through our camp last night, trusting us, knowing that it was safe in your presence. Froda's spirit, whose need you serve here because she asked you, despite it being the result of an ancient quarrel you never had any part in. Scouts-Many-Marshes, long ago on the Windhelm docks, when you took it upon yourself to get our wages raised, even though you had only talked to him for a few minutes. We were strangers in a strange land, but you still could not bear to see us cheated. And now, our love can stand between you and the evils you have to face. Alone, you would be weak, but surrounded and supported by love, you are strong. Not invincible. But strong enough, strong enough."

"You make love sound like some sort of magic ray," Vivian replied quietly. "I think it's simpler than that. Knowing that you care about me, that you love me, does give me strength. But there's also your expectations of me. The role that I try to play, this damned Dragonborn thing, is defined by you as much as it is by me, and because all of you care so much about me, I don't want to disappoint you. It soon gets to the point where you'd rather face death than let your admirers down. That's not a bad thing. It does give you a special power. But in exchange, you have to give up some of your freedom. Most of what you lose is the freedom to do what you won't or shouldn't do, so parting with it isn't such a big deal. But you can see why someone like Miraak could never endure it. He demanded absolute freedom – freedom to disappoint, freedom to betray included. To have absolute freedom, you have to stand absolutely alone. You can't care about others. And in turn, they won't care about you. At the first sign of weakness they turn on you, the way Odahviing turned on Alduin. And so you fall."

"So the concept of Dragonborn molds the mortal who is Dragonborn to its own ideal shape."

"Only if the mortal Dragonborn is willing to accept the concept and submit to its demands. Just being given the gift isn't enough. You have to accept the role that teaches you how to use it. If you don't, all that remains is power that sooner or later you will misuse. Miraak may have been Dragonborn by birth, but he rejected the discipline that this implied. I was puzzled when I first met the Greybeards and they went on and on about whether I was 'willing and able to learn,' but I think I know what they meant now. Not just learning a few Shouts. Learning everything that goes with knowing how to Shout, and giving up some of my freedom as the price of that knowledge."

Shahvee nodded. "Mortals are usually afraid to give up any of their freedoms, even freedoms that they know they will never use. Humans and Altmer especially. You like to stand on mountain tops and feel yourselves alone, individual, owing nothing to anyone. Argonians have the Hist to remind them that although we may seem to be many individuals, we are always and forever one. Even in this distant, cold northern land, that knowledge never leaves me for an instant. And through our love, you have become part of it as well. I haven't left our native oneness by going with you. I've brought you into it, the most precious thing that I have. You may not be fully aware of it now, but you will come to feel it more and more strongly as we grow old together."

Vivian leaned back in Shahee's arms and smiled up at her. Then, instead of answering, she took Shahvee's hands in her own and lifted them to her lips to kiss gently, first one and then the other, running her lips along the emerald-green scales that had first caught her attention during their initial meeting on the docks at Windhelm, so long ago now. "Pretty, pretty," she whispered. "Such a pretty green. I'll never leave you. If that means I'm not free, then so be it. I don't want to be free and have nothing left to lose. I want to be with you."

Then she turned around and rose to her feet, leaning over to hug Shahvee and nuzzle her head.

"My turn now. Let me heat some water and I'll wash you."

Shahvee laughed. "Put some clothes on first, you incredibly sexy thing you, or neither one of us will be able to keep our minds on the job."

"And what makes you think that isn't part of the plan?"

-o-o-o-

The honeymoon lasted four more days of on and off wandering, until the inevitable courier with his invariable "I've-been-looking-for-you" showed up to signal its end. Fortunately, both of them were decent when he arrived.

Vivian tore open the message, glanced over it, and sighed.

"More trouble on Solstheim. There's a nest of cultists still camped out deep in Miraak's old temple, and they're trying to stop the Skaal from tearing down the half-finished building surrounding the Tree Stone. This is from Frea. She wants some help in getting them out, if possible without killing any of them. She thinks that maybe if I show them Miraak's mask and robes, I can convince them that their master is dead and it's all over. Frea's the Skaal shaman, and she doesn't want a bloodbath right next to one of the sacred stones if she can avoid it."

"Do you want me to come along? I've never seen Solstheim, but I'm curious. Argonians avoid it. For one thing, there's the connection with Morrowind and the bad memories we Argonians have of that place; for another, the volcanic ash makes our skin itch."

Vivian leaned over to hug Shahvee with one arm, still holding the open letter in the other.

"Of course I want you to come along. I'll wash you every day. More than once if you ask," she said, with a slightly wicked grin. "Remember, we have our own house there, so we'll be private enough. Underground. No one outside hears _anything_, so you can scream your head off if you want. And as for the rest of it, if anyone turns up their nose at you, I'll just have to remind them that they owe me. Big time. Ebony mine-sized time. Frea's a Nord, anyway, not a Dark Elf. There'll be no trouble with her."

She looked at Shahvee and giggled. "You know, another funny thing. Since Neloth made me a member of House Telvanni, I guess you're Telvanni by marriage now. An Argonian who's a Morrowind noble. Can't wait to see their faces. They'll just have to live with it."

Shahvee nodded and said, "Then let's go make some stories."

"Hey! Where did you get that line?"

"From its author, of course. I spent an afternoon with Serana comparing notes on a person of mutual interest a week before our wedding. 'You can hide nothing from me here, nothing!'"

Vivian laughed. "Quoting Hermaeus Mora now? You owe me an impalement, then. Now, _that's_ something for me to look forward to. But not just yet. We've a long trip ahead of us, and no Black Books to speed us on the way. Let's get moving."


End file.
